


Bück dich

by TheHellcow



Category: Rammstein
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, M/M, Prison Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-10-19 19:00:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10646061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheHellcow/pseuds/TheHellcow
Summary: When Till and Flake has to spend the night in jail after their infamous "Bück dich" show in America, they have to find SOME form for entertainment..And as they say; don't drop the soap..!





	Bück dich

**Author's Note:**

> A friend and I are going to attend a Rammstein koncert in May, and we are literally FLOATING with excitement!  
> So sorry, Till and Flake... But you kinda ask for it actually.

Flake rested his head on the cold wall with a little sigh as he once more counted the cracks in the ceiling. As fun as it was, getting arrested for playing sodomy on the stage with Till, it was still boring as hell to sit in jail.  
He turned his head limply and looked at Till. The massive man was laying on the small cell bed, seeming almost too big for the narrow furniture, looking up at the ceiling too. He was still clad in his stage costume, as was Flake, and both of them were drenched in dirt, sweat and fake semen and blood.  
It would have been funny if it wasn’t so damn boring.

“You’re an idiot.” Flakes statement sailed through the air, with no anger, no bitterness, and Till just grinned in return.  
“Ja. And so are you.”

They both fell silent again, waiting to either be released or moved on in the system.

After what seemed like hours later, a corpulent prison guard unlocked and opened the door to their cell.

“Come on, fags.. You look like shit.” He gestured with his head that they should follow him. Flake rose on his legs, which were a bit unsteady after having been sitting on the cold hard floor for so long. He pushed his glasses up on his nose and looked at Till, who took his goddamn time swinging his huge legs over the edge of the bed and sitting up, stretching his arms.

“Hurry the fuck up, German bastard!” The guard did not find Tills display amusing and furrowed his brow as Flake discreetly rolled his eyes.

That cheeky drecksau.

At last Till rose himself and walked over to the door. The guard looked up at him, a bit intimidated by his overpowering size but tried to hide it behind a brusque demeanor.

“You will shower all this shit off of you and change into proper prison clothes. I will not look at that queer uniform of yours as long as you are under MY watch!” He turned his nose up at Flakes glittery suit and stepped aside, so they could walk out of the cell.

Flake did a mock bow for Till and let him walk out first. The other man didn't react and walked past him. Though Flake was sure he saw a ghost of a dimple on his cheek.

The guard guided them down the hall past the other cells and soon enough they were in the showers. On the benches were neatly folded prisoner clothes in different sizes, brightly orange as seen on movies. Resting his eyes on the clothes, Flake vowed internally that he would keep his suit and use it on the stage. Just in pure spite of the American government.  
“Hurry up, wash yourself and get dressed. No lollygagging.”.And then the guard slammed the door and left the two Germans alone.

“I'll make him gag..”  
Flake snickered at Tills muffled remark and started to slowly undress with his back turned towards him. He could use a good scrub, his annoyance was beginning to itch.

“I can't believe they arrested us for some fancy stage show.” He couldn't keep his bickering at bay anymore. “We performed for an adult audience, who knew what they walked into. It wasn't even real, you didn't strut around with your dick out in the open and especially not in me. Hell, we're not even gay..!” Flake continued to rant as he removed his pants and folded them neatly.  
“Have you ever been afraid that I in fact might be gay or bi?” Tills deep voice cut through his irritation and Flake stopped up, thinking a bit.  
“No. Never.” He turned around and looked at Till who looked at him with an unreadable expression, bare chested, his big fingers struggling a bit with the button in his pants.  
“And if you were… I wouldn't think it was something to be afraid of..”

As he said those words, Tills eyes seemed to darken, and Flakes breath hitched in his throat. The time seemed to stand still until Till slowly, slowly opened his mouth.

“We should wash.”

Startled, Flake realized that somehow Till had managed to remove the rest of his clothes as they had been staring at each other's faces. He was standing stark naked now, calm as ever, with his hands down his side, not covering anything. And suddenly his chest hair had developed some kind of intriguing new meaning, his broad stomach was for some reason extraordinarily captivating, his muscular hips were telling fascinating tales, and Flake had to stop his eyes. He lifted a hand, a bit shaky, and removed his glasses, which had become curiously foggy. He laid them on top of his pants on the bench, making sure they did not fall to the floor and break. Then he nodded in Tills general direction as an answer to his statement, and turned again to pull off his briefs.

Goosebumps freckled his skinny legs and he waddled awkwardly towards the closest shower head, acutely aware and embarrassed of his nakedness.  
That usually wasn't a problem, especially not with any of the band members after having been together for so many years. But right now, with Till, the air felt different, and Flake felt exposed. He turned on the water faucet and lifted his head towards the jet streams, closing his eyes. He could hear Tills heavy steps as he slowly walked over to the showerhead beside him.

He slowly relaxed into the warm water and uttered a low, content hum. For a couple of minutes he simply just stood there, still, getting drenched by the warm water, letting all his annoyance, nervousness and dirt wash away, emptying his head.

“You got the soap?”

Flake opened his eyes and looked at the blurry singer.

“Huh? No, it is.. Ah, over there..” He stuck a thin arm out and reached for the soap. His eyes, lacking the aid from his glasses, miscalculated the distance and he knocked it down oto the floor, noisily. Sighing, and bit annoyed, he bowed down to get it.  
And felt a couple of hands grasping his narrow hips. 

“Till!?”

He jerked his head around and tried to straighten up again, but a strong hand on his back kept him down.

“Bück dich.”

He gasped and trembled a bit, as the hands started to roam his backside like never before. It felt so different from the stage act, and he didn’t know what to make of it.

“T-Till, what.. I-I don't under- ah..!”

His babbling was interrupted by another gasp when one of the big hands casually stroked his inner thigh.  
His heart thumped faster and faster as the hand slowly traveled upwards towards his manhood. A small, strangled cry escaped his mouth as Till grasped around him and tucked a bit. 

“Oh mein Gott.”  
Fighting for breath, he felt Till jerk him almost painfully slow until he was fully erect and flushed. He almost whined when the hand let go of him to grab his hip again, but he managed to stop himself. Then he was pulled flush up against the front of the other man and his cheeks flushed bright red as he felt something hot and throbbing against his thigh. Keeping him in place, Till humped his backside a bit, occasionally hitting his balls. Unable to control himself, Flake pressed backwards against him with a little whimper, and stuttered disappointedly when Till suddenly let go of him and stepped away.

Flake turned his head, confused, looking at the huge, blurry silhouette of the singer, unable to see his facial expression.

“Get the soap”. 

Flake only hesitated for a couple of seconds before he fumbled after the soap, picking it up from the floor with a shaking hand. As soon as he had the soap in his hand, the warm hands returned to his hips and pulled him up against the big, wet body again. He almost didn't notice that the soap was taken from his hand, as the throbbing member pressed against his balls, distracting him.

He moaned hoarsely as a finger, smeared in soap, travelled between his cheeks and pressed against his puckered entrance. Flake had done his share of experimenting in his younger days, and so had the singer apparently as he gently but insistently pushed the finger in past the fluttering muscle. Flake gritted his teeth and willed his body to relax, and slowly he opened up to the broad finger, which went deeper and deeper. As soon as he had accommodated to the single finger, another pushed inside, spreading him even further. The pain was burning so deliciously and Flake couldn’t help himself moaning wantonly as the two fingers fucked him in a slow rhythm while Tills erection rubbed hotly against his thigh. Too soon though, Till removed his fingers, and as Flake gasped after air, feeling empty but a little bit relieved, he tried to compose himself and straighten up again.

Once more a big hand landed on his back and pushed him down. 

“Bück dich, befehl ich dir.”

Flake sucked in a breath as Tills deep and rough voice quoted their song, made it real with his heavy hand on his skinny back. And then he felt it. Tills phallus bouncing behind him, slicking against his soaped ass-cheek. And suddenly he felt nervous, not sure he wanted this, not sure if he was prepared enough, not sure what this would mean afterwards. And then it was right there, pressing against his slackened hole. Within a heartbeat it pushed inside, and it was burning and it felt so good, and Flake was once more moaning loudly.

First the head, and was it ever big. Even though it actually seemed like Till was taking care of not hurting him too badly, it still hurt like hell. As everything else on Lindemann, his dick seemed to be MASSIVE, and it stretched and stretched and stretched him. And Flake loved it. He pushed back roughly against Till, wanting even more inside of him. Not long after all of Tills impressive manhood was sheathed inside him. His own aching hard-on bounced between his legs, dripping onto the floor, and his shoulders and cheeks were flushed bright red.

He startled when a hand was brought onto one of his buttocks, making a loud “slap”-sound ring out in the room. 

“Bist du bereit?”

All Flake could do was nod affirmatively. Till pulled almost entirely out of him before he slammed into him again, his balls slapping against Flakes thighs. Almost toppling over, Flakes hand shot out and caught himself against the wet wall. Tills rough hands grabbed his hips once again in a bruising grip and held him steady as he pounded into him. The obscene slapping mingled with Flakes gasping moans and groans out in the washing room, as his rectum was assailed by Till.

The singer wasn’t experienced enough to find his prostate gland, but that didn’t matter. Actually Flake might prefer it like this.  
His hand shakingly crept down between his legs and grabbed hold around his own boner, tugging a bit, pretty close already only from the hard fucking in his ass.

Till grunted and slapped his ass again, hard. And that did it for Flake. With a stifled scream he came on his hand, on the floor, on the wall. And Till just kept hammering into him, making him leak for a long time after his orgasm. And when it felt like it was becoming too much, like he would fall apart between Tills strong hands, the burly German behind him groaned loudly and Flake whined as his member seemed to swell even more inside him, throbbing violently and then spurted out, deep into him.

Glad that Till still had an iron grip on his hips, Flake felt his legs wobble and tremble, the water still running down them. After a couple of minutes where both men was panting loudly, Tills softening member slid out of Flake and he finally let him straighten himself up again. Flake rose slowly, leaning heavily against the wall, and brushed the wet hair out of his face. The water on the floor was dirty with both fake and real semen, as well as fake and probably real blood too. 

“Now they can arrest us for indecency.”. 

Flake, still standing hunched against the wall, looked up at the singer who had returned to his still running shower, shampooing his hair and whistling a bit.

He couldn’t help himself and laughed long and hard.


End file.
